Verbs.
Sometimes they’re active. Sometimes they’re passive.
And sometimes they’re hotels...
There’s a vacancy at the Verb Hotel, 94 rooms’ worth of rock and roll, madness and... beds next to Fenway Park, now taking reservations for an August 1 opening.
What’s not new: the building. It’s the same modernist, two-story structure that opened in 1959 as the Fenway Motor Hotel. What’s new: everything else.
Your adventure begins in a pint-size lobby that could double as a flamboyant record producer’s waiting room. Rest on a canary-yellow couch and take in the walls full of vintage concert posters, set lists and a framed backstage pass to a ’77 Queen show. There’s even a turntable and a wall full of old records, should you feel inclined to treat everyone to Aerosmith’s “Dude (Looks Like a Lady).”
But you’re here for a room. And once you find one, don’t be surprised if it comes complete with prints of Boston Phoenix covers, furniture based on Eisenhower-era design and functional old-school typewriters.
Throw on one of those zebra-print bathrobes and finish your great American novel or something. Take to the courtyard pool and see about crossing paths with a comely stranger like Clark Griswold did.
Zebra robes are the bearskin rugs of robes.
Sometimes they’re active. Sometimes they’re passive.
And sometimes they’re hotels...
There’s a vacancy at the Verb Hotel, 94 rooms’ worth of rock and roll, madness and... beds next to Fenway Park, now taking reservations for an August 1 opening.
What’s not new: the building. It’s the same modernist, two-story structure that opened in 1959 as the Fenway Motor Hotel. What’s new: everything else.
Your adventure begins in a pint-size lobby that could double as a flamboyant record producer’s waiting room. Rest on a canary-yellow couch and take in the walls full of vintage concert posters, set lists and a framed backstage pass to a ’77 Queen show. There’s even a turntable and a wall full of old records, should you feel inclined to treat everyone to Aerosmith’s “Dude (Looks Like a Lady).”
But you’re here for a room. And once you find one, don’t be surprised if it comes complete with prints of Boston Phoenix covers, furniture based on Eisenhower-era design and functional old-school typewriters.
Throw on one of those zebra-print bathrobes and finish your great American novel or something. Take to the courtyard pool and see about crossing paths with a comely stranger like Clark Griswold did.
Zebra robes are the bearskin rugs of robes.
